Midnight In Montgomery: A Song Fic
by wwechick
Summary: SONG FICTION TIME! This one is based loosely on Alan Jackson's Midnight In Montgomery. The story follows Undertaker (Mark Calaway) and Kane (Glen Jacobs) on a mini adventure in Alabama. Paranormal activity pursues.


**Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for a new song fic. I'm taking an Alan Jackson song and putting it to a story. I am bringing along the Brothers of Destruction, Kane and The Undertaker. However, I'm using their real names Mark Calaway and Glen Jacobs. Anyway, this just came at the top of my head. Hope you enjoy it.**

 **MIDNIGHT IN MONTGOMERY: A SONG FIC**

It was a brisk November evening in Montgomery, Alabama. The full moon was shining brightly over Alabama that night. Mark Calaway and Glen Jacobs were driving down the road to the next town. They had 169 miles before they made it to Mobile, Alabama, their next destination for the Survivor Series pay per view. Mark and Glen were listening to some classic rock station as they were driving on. The clock on the radio read in bright red **11:47.** Mark and Glen were trading stories of their families and jokes back and forth as they went along when a sign caught Mark's eye.

"Glen. Look. A sign for Oakwood Annex Cemetery. Half a mile, next right."

"Hmm," Glen mumbled as he drove along. "Interesting."

"Isn't that where Hank Williams is buried?"

"Oh, yeah. That's right. He is."

Mark turned his eyes towards his friend. "Feeling adventurous?"

"Huh?"

"Wanna go is what I'm asking. I mean, we're close by and how often do we get to visit the grave of a celebrity?"

"Oh….I don't know."

"What?! Come on, man! Why not?"

"Well, I don't know."

"Oh….." Mark whispered. "I know what it is." Mark leaned in closer to Glen's right ear. "You're scared."

"What? Me?"

"Yeah. Of the ghost of Hank Williams himself. I've heard there have been ghostly sightings of him around here at midnight."

"Oh, please. I think ghost stories are nonsense."

"Really?"

"Really," Glen answered matter-of-factly. "Besides, there's no such thing as ghosts. They are only make-believe."

Mark leaned back in his seat. "Who says ghosts are make-believe?"

"I do."

Mark just simply shrugged. Glen thought for a moment, then sighed.

"What the heck. It's not like we have anything else to do right at this point and time. Right?"

"Right."

Glen pulled into the cemetery minutes. The clock had turned to **11:55** on the clock radio. Glen put the car in park as soon as he saw where the familiar tombstone of Hank Williams rested. Glen let out a low whistle.

"There it is. Hank Williams' resting place."

"Man," Mark whispered.

Both men unbuckled their seatbelts, then exited the car. Mark grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment before shutting the passengers side door. He zipped his jacket three quarters of the way up, then stepped to the front of the car. He flicked the switch on the flashlight.

"Okay," Mark said. "Let's go."

Using the flashlight to guide them, Mark and Glen walked on the well-kept mowed grass of the cemetery, being extra cautious about the other grave stones surrounding them. They soon stood in front of the headstone of Hank Williams' grave. Mark lifted the flashlight to the tombstone. A cowboy hat, a cloud with sun rays, a music note to the right, a figure of Hank, lines of music and the words 'Praise the Lord I saw the light' all carved into the stone.

"Wow," Glen whispered.

"Unbelievable," Mark whispered.

"Hank Williams."

"One of the greatest legends in country music history."

"With songs like 'Your Cheating Heart', 'I Saw The Light' 'There's A Tear In My Beer'."

"Let's not forget 'I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry'."

A soft breeze blew through the trees. It was enough to give Glen a chill, or was it the fact that he was standing at Hank's final resting place? He wasn't sure.

"What time does your watch say," Glen asked.

Mark held the flashlight to his watch. "Midnight."

"I'm going back to the car."

"I'll be along in a minute."

Glen turned to go back to his vehicle leaving Mark to stand there alone. His flashlight shone at the hat at the foot of the stone. He walked towards the hat and took a kneeling position to his right of the grave site. He looked at the hat, not saying a word. His fingers traced the brim, then went up to the crown of the hat, through the dent, over the crease of the hat. He heard a sound behind him, like the sound of footsteps on leaves. He turned, still kneeling, looking about shining the light to his left.

"Glen? Is that you?"

No reply came. Mark waited a second more.

"Glen?"

Still no reply.

Mark turned back towards the stone. He aimed the flashlight to the top of the stone where the words to one of his famous songs stuck out. He remembered the chorus to the song and sang it softly.

" _I saw the light. I saw the light. No more darkness. No more night. Now, I'm so happy, no sorrow in sight. Praise the Lord, I saw the light."_

As he finished singing the chorus, the wind was dying down. The wind stopped blowing. Mark got a chill at how quiet it had rapidly become. All at once, he began to feel nervous. Extremely nervous. A light shown over the stone. It was to bright to come from his flashlight. Mark heard another sound coming from the same direction he heard-or thought he heard- the sound come from before.

He turned to his left to look again. He gasped loudly and dropped the flashlight to the ground. He fell backwards onto his rear. Wide-eyed, Mark looked up and stared. He began to pant. Mark's body began to shake. He didn't say a word. He just stared. He picked up the flashlight and shined it in the direction he was looking.

"It can't be," Mark said shaking his head back and forth. "It just can't be."

A drunk man in a white cowboy hat stood before Mark a couple yards away. A slender, thin man in a gray suit and shiny boots. His eyes, those eyes, were piercing through Mark's very soul. The figure's hands were folded out in front of him. A glow was shining around this figure. Smoke was circling around his feet.

"Who are you?"

The figure didn't speak. He just stood there.

"WHO ARE YOU?!"

" _Friend, it's good to see you. It's nice to know you cared."_

Mark asked again. "Who…are…you?"

" _Oh, you know me. The whole world calls me Hank."_

The wind picked up and soon, he vanished. The light was gone. The smoke was gone. The figure was gone. Mark slowly rose to his feet, his flashlight still shining where the stranger stood.

"It couldn't be."

Mark dusted himself off as he headed back to Glen's car. He turned off the flashlight as he opened the passengers side door. He got into the car, then shut the door, He sat the flashlight on the floor board in the back of the car. He leaned against the seat, his panting slowing down.

"Mark? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Glen. I'm fine."

"You look pale. You look like you've seen a ghost."

Mark's eyes turned to look at Glen, who was being serious.

"I'm fine now."

Glen was confused. "You're fine now? What does that mean?"

"Hard to explain. Can we go now?"

"Yeah."

Glen turned on the ignition, then put the car in drive. They drove out of the cemetery without saying anything. Glen drove till they reached train tracks with a train passing by.

"Mark. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"Do I need to call an ambulance?"

"No," Mark said with a shake of his head. "Honestly, I'm fine."

"Okay. Just checking. Your turn to choose a station.

Mark's hand found a dial and turned it to a classic country station. The train whistle moaned as a familiar song played on the radio.

" _Hear that lonesome whippoorwill? He sounds to blue to fly. The midnight train is whining low. I'm so lonesome I could cry."_

Mark's eyes glanced into the rearview mirror. The glow of the red shown on the road behind them. Then….he looked closer. He tapped Glen on the arm.

"What?"

"Do you see what I see?"

Glen peaked into the rearview mirror.

"Who is that?"

Mark and Glen looked at each other.

"Remember after I got back in the car and you made that comment about me looking like I saw a ghost?"

"Yeah."

"That's exactly what I saw."

Glen looked at Mark a little confused. "What?"

Mark and Glen turned to look out the car's back window. The figure that Mark saw in the cemetery stood several yards behind their car. The figure lifted one hand and waved before slowly disappearing.

Mark's and Glen's eyes met rapidly. They faced forward in their seats as Glen locked the doors to the car. The train was gone and Glen drove the car over the tracks.

"Still think ghost stories are nonsense?" Mark asked.

"Not now I don't."

 **THE END**

 **I hope, fellow readers, that you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing this. Hope nobody was too creeped out by it. I will say that I hated writing this in the dark. Big mistake.**


End file.
